GhostHunters
by The God of Ink
Summary: Demons and black magic stalk the streets of 19th century London, drawing a novelist, a nobleman, a priest, and an inventor together. In the face of evil, who should you call?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

The Men in Black Cloaks

**London, England, 1890**

** The smog from the workhouses made Lily cough. She had never liked this part of the city, always so filthy and unsafe. But she thanked God for the small alleyways as she ran down them. Anything that could keep **_**them **_**from chasing her.**

** As she ran past the vagabonds and tramps that sleep on the street, she prayed and prayed. "Please Mother," she whispered, "please look down on me and protect me." She wished that her mother was there with her right now, running alongside her.**

** As she turned down the next alleyway, she stopped dead. There was a man blocking the end of the alley. A tall, imposing man, wearing a black cloak and hood. From his neck dangled a necklace, the shape of which made Lily's heart turn cold with fear. It was a skull, with vicious fangs and goat horns. The skull of The Devil. The red rubies in its eyes held her gaze, as if hypnotizing her. **

** The man in question chuckled. "Honestly, girl. Did you really think you could get away with want you did? In our city?" Lily turned to flee, but there were more men. All of them wearing the cloaks and pendants. "Please," she cried, on the verge of tears, "I didn't mean to..." "...To steal our scripture?" the man in front of her roared. From his cloak, he unsheathed a dagger, its black blade ornamented with blood-red demonic symbols.**

** He drew closer, and Lily could see the featureless mask under the hood. Blood red steel, adorned with but a single mark; the demon skull. "Don't try to garner my mercy, you wretch!" the man roared again. "Planning to go to the coppers, were you? Be a little hero?" And with that, he raised his arm, and brought the dagger down into the girl's chest. **

** Lily utter a strangled scream, then fell, stone dead. The other men gathered around the fallen girl. Blood seeped from the wound, pooling around it, but it did not run. They watched as the dagger, still lodged in the wound, sucked up the pool of blood. The blood curled around the intricate patterns of the blade, filling the clear glass handle. Within minutes, the girl was sucked dry.**

** The man who had done the damage retrieved his weapon. "I assume I'm to be scorned for this, Brother Holt?" A tall man stepped out from the crowd of cloaks. "You didn't have to kill her, Brother Kritch. She could have been put to work. And know we have a dead body in the middle of London." Kritch waved his hand. " Bah! She would have found some way to escape again, no doubt. Besides," he grinned, " the police can't pursue a murder when they can't identify the corpse." He motioned to the crowd. "Sister Fairchild."**

** Another person stepped out from the crowd. Sister Fairchild pointed her arms at the body, and snapped her fingers.**

** FWOOSH! The cadaver burst into a raging fire. In mere minutes, what was once the body of an orphan was little more than a pile of black bones. **

** "There", Kritch stated, "not much to go on, you see?" Holt snorted. "The remains of a body are just as incriminating as a body in its whole. But, I do see the point you make." He turned to the crowd behind him. "Let us blend in with the shadows. Morning is coming, and I don't wish to be seen with you lot in broad daylight." **

**And with that, the crowd began to leave, melding with the shadows in the alley until no one was left but the blackened skeleton.**

**In the morning, the bones would be found by a man, on his way to the local workhouse. The police would come, and cart away the remains, not knowing what a terrible sign it was. Murders like this had been turning up all around London, and they thought it merely as the work of a psychotic. It wasn't. The city was in danger, and it could only get worse...**


	2. Ch 1:Catacombs under Westminster Abbey

**CHAPTER 1:**

**Catacombs under Westminster Abbey **

**Father Spengler put down this newspaper in disgust. Another burned body had been found. There were always murders going on in London, but the nature of these killings was so...**_**unholy...**_** that it made him shiver.**

"**Father Spengler!" Spengler turned to see Antonio running towards him. He smiled. It had been less than a year since the church had taken the orphan boy, when Father Octavius found him in Italy. Spengler had taken a liking to the boy. His spunk reminded him of himself, when he was a youth. **

**Antonio reached him, out of breath from his sprint. "Father... Octavius...wanted..." "Catch your breath, boy," Spengler instructed. "Father Octavius wanted what?" Antonio straightened himself. "Father Octavius wanted me to tell you that he wanted to see you in his office." **

**Spengler got up from his chair. What was so important that Octavius would want him so urgently? "Right. Thank you for telling me." He smiled again. "Now, why don't you go on? I think Charles was organizing a game of football in the courtyard." Antonio beamed. "Okay! See you, Egon!" And with that, he ran off. **

**Egon. He hadn't been called that since he joined the church. Heaving a sigh, he folded the newspaper under his arm and began making his way to Father Octavius' office. **

**Egon knocked on the door in front of him. "Father Octavius?" "Ah, yes. Come in, Father Spengler." He opened the door, trying to make sure his eyes did not widen. Octavius' office always had that affect on him. It was a large room, with book cases on every wall. A chandelier hung from a ceiling painted to look like the open sky.**

**Father Octavius sat at his desk. He was a tall, imposing man, with greying hair and a long, whispery beard. Unlike other the priests, he kept himself in good shape. His muscular physique combined with his imposing presence meant discipline was always maintained.**

"**Egon, good to see you got my message." He offered his hand. Egon shook it, confused. Why had Octavius used his first name? Father Octavius motioned to the paper, still under Egons arm. "I assume you've heard of all the murders?" Egon nodded. "Ah, I thought so. Tell me, what's your opinion?" **

**Egon gave the old man a look. "I not sure I understand, Father. My opinion?" "What do you think happened to those poor souls?" Egon shrugged. "Some mad man with a liking for flames, I suppose. What does it have to do with the Church?"**

**Father Octavius sighed, giving Egon a glimpse of how old the man actually was. "It has a lot more to do with us then you think." With that, he strolled over to one of his bookcases, and pulled out a book. With a grinding of gears, the shelf retracted into the wall, and slide right to reveal a stair case. **

**Octavius stepped into the entrance. "Walk with me, Father. " He motioned for Egon to follow. The two priests began to walk down a candlelit staircase. Egon heard the entrance closing behind him. **

**The journey down was silent, until they reached the bottom. Egon couldn't suppress a gasp. There were millions of tunnels, all leading in different directions. "What is this?" "These," Octavius stated, "are tunnels meant to be used if the church is under attack, and escape is required. But they also serve as... storage of sensitive items." **

**The old man began walking into another tunnel, and Egon rushed to catch up, fearing that he would get lost. The tunnel was short, and opened out into a small room. It contained but a single thing; a pedestal with four golden orbs and a weathered book. **

"**The existence of these objects is known only to the Holy Father, a small group of his Cardinals, and myself" Octavius said. "This," he picked up the book, "is known as The Book of Lucifer." Egon felt a shiver go down his spine. Octavius continued. "It states that when Lucifer was cast out of Heaven, his scheme to overthrow the Heavenly Father did not die. It states that he appeared to a group of men, and gave them this book, promising them that in return for their service, he would reward them with infinite power." **

"**The book state that at the dawn of mans future, his disciples would deliver to him a hundred thousand innocent souls to him, with which he will use to revive and renew his army to wage war on Creation. To complete their task, the disciples were give demonic powers and told to form a society. They called their society 'The Hellfire Collective'."**

**Egon looked at the orbs on the tables. "Do these fit in?" "According to the book, the Heavenly Father sent these four orbs in order to combat the Collective. Their activities have a tendency to..." he looked for the right word, "... **_**agitate **_**parts of the other side."**

**Octavius collected the four orbs, and handed them to Egon. "I've been in communication with the Holy Father, and it is certain; these murders were committed by the Collective. And as the Collective has a liking of black magic, I have been hearing reports of demons and ghost on the streets." **

**The old priest looked at Egon. "Egon, my boy, someone is needed to fight these people, and I believe it's you." It took Egon all it had to keep himself from fainting. "Me?" he wheezed. "Why me? What makes me suited for fighting demons?" Octavius smiled, and patted the man's shoulder. "The lord works in mysterious ways, old friend. I just know it's you."**

**Egon looked at the man, then down at the orbs in his arms. "I assume I will not be doing this alone?" Octavius laughed. "Always perceptive, aren't you? No, there is meant to be one orb for one man. Tell me, is there anyone you can think of that could be suited to this task?"**

**Egon thought long and hard. "Actually, I know two..." **


	3. Ch 2: Assembling the Team

Disclaimer: I don't own the names Egon Spengler, Ray Stantz, Winston Zeddmore, or Peter Venkman.

**Chapter Two:**

**Assembling the Team**

** Egon looked at the door in front of him.** ** It was metal, with Celtic symbols etched into it and a large button in the** **middle. Heaving a sigh, he pushed the button. The sound of a foghorn soon filled his ears. **

**Raymond does love to make an appearance, he thought to himself. With a grinding of gears, the door split down the middle, the two pieces sliding into the wall. Standing before Egon was a short, stout man, his hair and face covered in grease and engine oil. His piercing eyes looked enormous reflected in the large brass goggles he wore.**

** "Father Spengler!" he cried, braying his loud, Scottish voice in the priest's face. "How good to see ya! Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting you ta arrive at my door." **

** Egon managed a thin smile, wiping the man's spittle from his face. "That's quite alright, Ray. Would you mind?"**

** "Of course not! Make ye self at 'ome!" He stepped aside to let Egon in. His foyer was cluttered with machine parts and diagrams tacked to the wall. Automatons moved on tracks built into the floor, carrying books or spare parts. One trundled up beside Raymond, holding a platter of sandwiches. The man shoved some into his face, then held one out to Egon. Egon shook his head. **

**"So tell me, Father." Raymond garbled through his the sandwiches in his maw. "What brings Westminster's golden boy ta my humble abode?"**

** "Father Octavius has given me an assignment, and I am to recruit a team of my choosing." Egon motioned to a door. "Might we continue in your workshop?"**

** Raymond nodded, and walked up to the door. Spinning the doors combination lock, it swung open. The two men hustled inside. **

** The room was larger than the foyer, and twice as cluttered. Gears, springs, and wires sat clustered in piles. Tables were taken up by automaton bodies and half finished devices. A large iron smelter sat in the middle of the room, stretching to the ceiling.**

** "What sort of assignment are ye talking aboot, Father?" The man placed his goggles on the table beside him.**

** Egon realized if he wanted to get to his other man, this would have to be quick. He gave Raymond a condensed version, repeating everything that had been said to him. When he was finished, he took the four orbs out of his coat pocket.**

** "Father Octavius said that these could help." he explained. "Judging by their colour, my guess is that they contain some sort of energy. What I need you to do is..."**

** "...build sometin' that can use that energy, yeah?" The man beamed. "Trust me, Father, ye chose well. Ain't nothin' that Ray Stantz can't build."**

** Egon smiled. "Good to hear, because I need four of them." Raymond looked puzzled for a second. "Four of them? Why four?" **

** "Because there are four orbs for four men. I hope you realize that you'll be on the front lines with us, Raymond." Egon had to chuckle at the way the man reacted, all traces of bravado draining from his face. **

** "Now, I'll leave you to your task." He placed one orb on the table. "I'll be back later with your thoughts on the devices. Meanwhile, I have someone else to see..."**

** The carriage raced along the dirt road, each jolt from the rickety wheels shaking Egons bones in their joints. Fearing he would be sick, he opened the window, his destination in view. It was a large, cobblestone estate, with exquisite windows and ivy crawling across the walls. The entrance was shadowed by a huge marble archway. **

** Mercifully, the carriage arrived at the door. Paying the driver, Egon ascended the steps to the entrance, knocking on the carved oak door. Egon always felt jealous of this place. The church had taught him not to envy others, but he just couldn't help it.**

** The door opened, and Egon was cast into the shadow of a giant. The man before him towered over him. He was a stocky, Indian man, head swathed in a turban ornamented with a ruby.**

** "Egon Spengler, sir. I'm here to see your master to discuss..." he began.**

"**Come in." The man instructed. Clamping his mouth shut, Egon entered into a vast foyer, equal to that of Buckingham itself. "The Sahib will see you shortly." With that, the man strode up the massive staircase that dominated the center of the foyer.**

** Soon after, another man descended the staircase. He was a tall, dark-skinned man, with cropped hair and a combed goatee. He wore a cheetah's skin draped over his leisure suit. **

** "Ah, Father." He proclaimed, his African accent filling the room. "Sanjay told me you had come. Welcome. Now, you wish to talk to me about something?" **

** "Yes, Winston. Might we retire to your study?"**

**The man did a small bow, and began to stride back up the staircase. Egon had to jog to keep up with him. Their jaunt led them to a door. Slotting a key into the lock, Winston opened the door into a room not unlike Father Octavius' office. It was large and high, with the chandelier and bookcases. But there were spears and tribal shields hung on the wall, and stuffed animal heads dotted all around the room, with the stuffed body of a lion standing sentry in the far corner.**

** Winston motioned to two chairs in front of a fire place. "Please, sit down." Egon obliged. Winston sat in the other chair, taking out a pipe from his pocket and matches from his pocket. **

** "I assume this is about the Collective?" he asked, lighting his pipe. Egon opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Winston laughed, smoke billowing out of his mouth.**

** "How do I know? Simple. I still have that infernal message machine Ray gave me at the last charity function. He told me all about your "proposal"." Winston's face grew serious. "Is it true? Demons and black magic?" Egon could only nod. **

** Winston laid back in his chair, still puffing on his pipe. "It's things like this that made me leave Africa, Father. It's almost as if I'm a magnet for bad juju." **

** "Precisely why I'm asking for your help, Winston. You said your grandfather was a shaman; I need someone with knowledge of spirits and rituals." Egon took out one of the orbs. "I wouldn't be asking this if I wasn't sure you could help."**

** Winston looked long and hard at the orb. Finally, he sighed. "You've been a good friend, Egon." He chuckled. "Besides, I love adventure. You have my help."**

** The two men shook hands. Egon felt a small twinge of satisfaction. He was succeeding in his task.**

** Winston gave the priest a look. "Ray said there were four of these orbs, yes?" Egon nodded. "And I'm assuming that you've only asked me and him?" Another nod. **

** Winston flashed a toothy smile. "I'm not promising anything, Egon, but I think I know a man who could fill your vacant spot." **

**( Coming next: The first appearance of the British Pete Venkman!)**


	4. Ch 3: The Madman in the Attic

**Chapter 4:**

**The Madman in the Attic**

** "You better hope it was worth coming here, Winston," Egon spluttered, "or else I'm going to find some way to pay you back for this."**

** By the time the two men had reached there destination, it was raining hard. That dreary, cold English rain that London never seemed to be rid of. _ And here we are, standing outside_ _like bloody idiots! _Egon thought. And all to meet Winston's mysterious friend. **

** The house itself was quite underwhelming; one of the many downtrodden houses in London, wedged between little known tailor shops and unhygienic bakeries. It stood about two stories, with chipped brick walls and a roof hat was missing shingles. **

** Winston knocked on the door again. "Trust my judgment, Egon. This man is the perfect fit for the vacancy in your team."**

** "And what makes you think he's perfect?"**

** "His expertise." Winston knocked again, clearly becoming impatient. "He's a writer, you see. Writes for one of those pulp horror magazines. The way I see it, he's researched everything there is to know about black magic, voodoo, such and such. But..."**

** "But what?" Between the rain and Winston's vague descriptions, Egon was starting to lose his charitable demeanor.**

** Winston smiled, feeling sheepish. "All that black magic going through his head has made him a little… how do you English say…" he looked for the right word "…bonkers." **

** The door finally opened, by a frail young woman with wispy hair. **

** "Good evening, Ms. Dersby." Winston did a small bow. "We're here to see…"**

** "I know who you're here to see, Lord Zeddmore. Only reason you come down here." she said. Ms. Dersby ushered them inside, and pointed to the staircase. "He's up there. Won't let anyone go into the attic; says he's got writers block. Me and George hear him talking to himself, so we think he's finally lost it." And with that, she walked away into the next room, where sounds of people talking and laughing drifted out. **

** The two men began to climb up the stair case in silence. Finally, Egon had to ask;**

** "Winston, are you sure about this?"**

**They reached the top of the staircase. Winston proceeded to pull a ladder down from the ceiling. "I'm not sure what you mean, Egon." He barely turned around as he spoke, climbing up the ladder. **

"**What I mean is, are you sure that this man is the right man for the job?" Egon puffed as he climbed after Winston. "I can assure you that the Church has hundreds of better educated, more experienced experts…"**

"…**Who's heads are filled are filled with thoughts of the Gospel, and righteousness, and the word of God." Winston stopped climbing, and looked down at the priest. "No, we need an unbiased mind for this task, Egon. And I can assure you, hasn't gone to church once in his life."**

**They reached the top of the ladder. Winston pushed open a door, and climbed up into a spacious room. Egon followed, in the process covering himself in dust. The attic was filthy, and full of junk. Large shapes were obscured by tarpaulins, and a thick layer of dust covered everything. **

**At the end of the attic was a large, circular window, staring out into the city rooftops. A large desk was placed in front of it; sitting at it was a man. He did not move, nor did he seem to breathe. Egon, for a second, feared that he was dead. **

**Winston walked tentatively up to the motionless figure. "Hello, Peter."**

**The chair swiveled around, and Egon saw that this man was very much alive. He was tall, skinny, with frazzled hair and eyes that rolled like billiard balls in their sockets. He cleared his throat, a harsh and guttural sound, as if he hadn't talked in a long time.**

"**Winston, good to see you. And you, Father Spengler. I assume you came because you wanted to invite me into your little club?" **

**Winston and Egon just stared, mouths open. How did he know? The man, Peter, laughed, enjoying the look of shock on their faces.**

"**I'm guessing you want to know how? Simple" Peter gave a small whistle, and suddenly Egon jumped, yelping. _Something_ was moving under his coat! He began slapping his person, until the something fell out onto the floor. **

**It looked like a beetle, with a golden shell and two small, jutting horns. Egon noticed that the shell was covered in hieroglyphics. Peter whistled again, and the insect spread its wings and promptly flew into his hand. **

** "Golden Scarabs," Peter explained. "Desert spirits from Egypt. The Egyptians worshipped the scarab, believing that Horus created it to be his envoy." He looked down at the beetle in his hand. "Sek-Met," he said, enunciating clearly. The beetle clicked twice, then dissipated into a pile of sand.**

** Egon was appalled. In the Church, there were grave consequences for even speaking about the summoning of spirits. It is one thing to believing in The Devil, but to call him from the underworld? And yet here was this man, bringing demons into this world just to do his errands. **

** "How?" the priest managed to croak out. "How did you know about..." **

"**Your little secrets? Simple." Peter pointed to his head. "I hear them on the wind. Every secret, every lie, every fabrication ever spoken in this city, the spirits tell me. They said that a holy man was wandering the city, finding warriors of God to fight the demons."**

**_Winston was right_, Egon thought. _He is utterly mad._**

**Egon turned to leave, and found himself face-to-face with a hideous creature floating right in front of him! To his shame, Egon shrieked, and proceeded to hide behind Winston. Venkman, on the other hand, started laughing like a hyena. **

**The creature floated over to the writer. It was a sickly green ball of flab, with lanky arms, beady eyes, and bad teeth. It slobbered and grunted, gesturing wildly at Egon. **

**Peter, recovering from his laughing fit, pointed at the creature. "Meet Slimer, my number two… well, ghost, really." He stood up from his chair, and walked towards them, his joints cracking and groaning. **

"**There are forces in this city that are massing to do evil. As a concerned citizen, consider my services to be rendered." He cracked a huge smile. "When do we start?" **

"**We?" Egon asked, confused.**

** Peter pointed to the green ghost, Slimer. "If I go, he goes." To illustrate the point, Slimer grunted, and put up fisticuffs, as if challenging them to say no.**

** "Absolutely no…" Egon started, but Winston cut him off.**

"**Of course, Peter. Get your coat; we're leaving for Ray's house now."**

**The man nodded, and in a swift movement, bounded to the ladder and climbed down. Slimer followed, floating straight through the floor. When they were gone, Egon turned to Winston, clearly agitated.**

"**I've indulged you, old friend, but now I'm putting my foot down. He. Is. Not. Coming. With us."**

**Winston chuckled. "And why, might I ask, is he not coming?"**

**Egon finally let loose. "WHY! You must be joking! Look at him! He's mad as a hatter! He dabbles in black magic! HE LIVES WITH A GHOST!" **

**Winston shrugged. "And you said one of our jobs was to fight ghosts. What's the old metaphor say; "to catch a thief, you must think like a thief"? **

**Egon could have let loose again, could have shouted some more. But his one outburst had left him drained. He plunked down on to a dusty chair, sending up a cloud of dust, and deflated like a balloon. **

**Winston took the opportunity to continue. "On the ride here, you told me Octavius said that our "primary job is the defeat of the Collective." But, you also said that we would have to take care of, and I cannot stress this enough, _any and all _supernatural dangers and activities in London. Now, think about all that, and tell me that we wouldn't be better off with Peter on our side."**

**Egon digested all of this. True, this Venkman person might be a bit of a loon, but his actions spoke for themselves; he could communicate with ghosts, summon spirits, and had an understanding of magic. Abilities like that were non-existent in today's world, and would make the team's mission a lot less complex.**

"**Oh, all right," Egon sighed. "It looks like you win. We bring him along."**

** Winston smiled.**

"**But," Egon continued, "If I find that ghost causing trouble, I'm throwing him out. I think we can both agree it would be more than pleasant not finding out why his name is "Slimer"." **


	5. Ch 4: First Day on the Job

**Chapter 4:**

**First Day on the Job**

"Well, seeing as we're all here, perhaps I should begin." Egon stood up, and looked at the three men present. It was the day after he and Winston had gone to see Peter, and they were now all situated in Winston's conference room. Ray had offered to hold the meeting at his house, but it was a unanimous decision not to hold such an important meeting amidst piles of garbage and the persistent smell of oil.

"Now," Egon continued, "you all know why I've called you here, so let me get straight to the point. Our job is the combat and elimination of any supernatural threats that present themselves to this city. Our main objective is the defeat of the Lucifer Collective. Any questions?"

Peter raised his hand. "Do we get paid?"

"Mr. Venkman, I do hope you're taking what I'm telling you seriously."

"Oh absolutely, Father." Peter gestured around him. "I mean, I'm here, aren't I?"

Ray snickered.

Egon turned to face the inventor. "Well, you seem ready to talk, Raymond. Give me some good news."

Ray stood up. "As you asked, Father, ah looked over 'dem spheres you gave me. They _do_ have some weird energy in 'dem, so…"

Ray hefted a large burlap sack onto the table. "…I made something that could get that energy out for us ta' use."

Winston face puckered up. "_Could _get it out?"

Ray looked sheepish. "Eh, well, given the rushed deadline, I didn't exactly… find time ta'… test 'dem.

"Oh, joy." Egon rose out of his chair, and undid the twine at the top of the sack.

The burlap fell away, and sitting in the center of the table was the strangest contraption that any of the three men had every seen. It was, essentially, a metal barrel, much like a water tank. Gauges and lights dotted its surface, blinking and twinkling like some oddball Christmas decoration. A hose extended out of the middle right side, and connected to that hose was something that look not unlike a hunting rifle, albeit with a pressure gauge on the hilt, and a barrel topped with a glass lens like a small telescope.

"A 'ting of beauty, isn't she?" Ray's face was beaming with pride.

"Absolutely." Peter agreed. "… What does it do, per say?"

Ray puffed out his chest, the way he always did when asked to explain something. "Simple. It catches ghosts."

"Well, that clears _everything_ up." Winston muttered.

Ray wagged his finger at his friend. "Don't be so quick 'ta scorn, Winnie. Pete, call out 'dat ghost of yours."

As soon as those words left his lips, Slimer floated up through the middle of the table, making every jump, and hovered his way towards Ray.

"Alrighty, let's take 'dis out for a test, shall we?" Ray grabbed the machine, and from its front pulled out two leather straps. He hoisted the machine onto his back like a satchel, and flicked a switched. The machine hummed to life, and Ray adjusted the gauge on the weapons hilt.

"Now, whatever you do, Slimey" Ray cautioned, "Do Not Move. This won't hurt a bit."

Ray hoisted the rifle piece like a true hunter. He pointed it at Slimer, who was beginning to panic. He was considering floating out of the way when Ray pulled the trigger.

VVVVSSSSHHHH! A brilliant, multi-coloured stream shot out of the barrel! It raced towards Slimer, then broke off into multiple streams, enveloping Slimer and trapping him.

"What you are seeing 'ere is a massive discharge of energy!" Ray shouted over the noise of the beam. "The stream naturally bends around areas of supernatural energy, creating a sort of cage for whatever it goes around!" He reached around his shoulder, and switched off the machine. As soon as he was free, Slimer flew towards Peter, and hid behind his pant leg like a small child.

"Now, whatever 'dose spheres are," Ray continued, "they obviously have some sort of queer quality about 'dem that produces huge amounts of energy. By releasing 'dat energy, and focusing it with 'dis gun, you effectively have a means of restraining ghosts."

Egon stood where he was, stupefied. "And you've made four of these things?"

"Aye. But that's not all I've got. Oh, no; there's plenty 'a toys I've got for us."

Ray strode over to a large object hidden under a tarpaulin. "I also have… this!" He tore off the tarpaulin to reveal a giant…thing. It was a massive block of metal, with so many gauge and levers, it looked like a children's toy. Ray unhooked a smaller box from the front, and flashed it off to the others.

"The good Mr. Venkman was kind enough 'ta give me an old Welsh incantation for binding spirits. By printing it on the insides of 'dese boxes 'ere, I believe we can catch and store 'dem ghosts with no trouble at all."

Egon smiled. Everything was coming together perfectly. "Ray, I knew you wouldn't let me down. Now, I expect all of us to get ourselves used to using these machines, so…"

He would have said more, if a young woman had not come bursting in at that very moment. Winston stood up. "I'm sure you all remember my assistant, Janine. Now, what is it, dear? We're quite busy…"

"Telegraph from Inspector Holt at the Yard, sir" she said. "He says he has a case that fits your description."

The three men and ghost looked at Winston. "Before you say anything, Egon," he began, "let me explain. I thought it would be a good idea to let Scotland Yard know about our little 'venture.' "

Egon's mouth went dry. So much for secrecy. "And why, exactly, did you do that?" he croaked.

Winston shrugged. "He scoffed at me when I told him, but in case they came across something that needed our attention. Which, evidently, they have." He turned to Janine. "Where did he say he wanted us?"

Janine consulted a piece of paper she had in her hand. "It says the bank, sir."

Peter sprang out of his chair. "Well, what are we waiting for? We better get a move on if we want to get there soon. I don't know about you three, but my frail old figure can't run with one of those thing strapped to my back."

Ray chuckled. "Who on earth said we had 'ta run?"


	6. Ch 5: Into the Fray

**Chapter 5:**

**Into the Fray**

"**Daaaaaaammmmmmmmmmn, yoooooouuuuu, Raaaaaaayyyy!" The speeding wind caught Winston's words, stretching them into howls. The four men were speeding down the London roads to the Grand Hall Hotel in Trafalgar Square, wheels skidding on cobblestone.**

**Perhaps an explanation. Less than half an hour earlier, the four men were standing outside, at the back of Ray's house. In lieu of the recent sunshine, the typical London rain had been replaced with a damp cold.**

"**Oh, give me a day, that wonderful day, when I laid my eyes on her," sang Peter, trying to stifle his boredom. "Why the devil are standing out here, anyway?"**

**Egon shrugged. "Ray wants to show off another one of his 'toys', no doubt."**

**CLANGCLANGCLANG! The back of the house split open, and began to wind apart, revealing the inside of Ray's workshop. A great roaring assaulted their ear's, and a massive smoke-spewing monstrosity rolled out on large, chunky wheels. Ray sat astride the thing in a glass cockpit on the front, grinning like a looney.**

''**I say this as a friend, Raymond,'' Winston shouted over the din. ''You must get out of that dammed workshop more often.''**

**Ray ignored him. ''Behold, fair gents, the future of transportation! What I have created here has twice the speed, power, and endurance of a cart and horse. And in honor of our new occupation, I christen her,'' he paused for effect, '' The Ecto-1 automobile!''**

**Egon fought the urge to roll his eyes. ''Yes, Raymond. You have shamed us with your brilliance once again. Now tell me why we waited this long? The inspector expects us at the Hotel.''**

**Ray smiled, his teeth as grimy as his hands. ''Hop on, preacher.'' **

**Ray wasn't boasting. The Ecto-1 sped down the London streets like a cheetah with his tail set ablaze, jostling the four occupants like the wind would jostle dust. The motley crew of ghost hunters sped past bewildered city goers and tourists, discussing their plans of operation.**

''**So, what exactly is it that you expect us to do, Father?'' Peter asked, voice vibrating along with the bumps in the road.**

''**The Lucifer Collective plans to achieve great power through supernatural means.'' Egon explained, trying not to be sick. ''As of yet, I don't know what they're doing, or how, but whatever it is, it's releasing spirits onto the city. As they gain more power, the weaker the link between the afterlife and our world becomes, prompting more ghosts to cross over. We have to stop these spirits causing trouble, while trying to figure out what it is the Collective are is doing.''**

**All of the sudden, the Ecto-1 stopped, jerking the three occupants not secured in the cockpit, and sending them flying to the front.**

**Ray un-did the straps that bonded him. ''We're here.'' he said, a tad amused.**

**The four men got out, three of them stumbling around like drunkards. They stood in front of the Grand Hall Hotel, tall and majestic. Surrounding the building were policemen, who Egon noticed were attempting to stay as far away from the hotel while still keeping watch over the entrance.**

**A scrawny, beaked nose policeman ran up to their group. ''Are you the one's the Inspector sent for?'' he asked. They nodded, and apparently satisfied with that answer, he nodded to the door. ''Inspector's waiting for you inside.'' And with that, he ran off.**

**Ray strode around to the back of the Ecto-1, and, pulling open the doors, pulled a large metal rack on rollers out of the automobile. Hanging on it were the four packs Ray created. He strapped one on, and instructed the others to do the same. **

**After his friends had struggled with the heavy packs, Ray pointed his nozzle to the sky and let off a shot. All the policemen scattered, the blast frazzling their already edgy nerves. **

**Ray nodded. ''All systems in order; now it's time ta get ta work!'' He nodded to his friends. ''Ya ready?'' **

**A nod from Egon, and a nod from Peter. ''We are ready, Ray'' Winston said, full of confidence. And with that, the four men flicked on their packs, and strode up into the entrance of the hotel. **


	7. Ch 6: Fighting the Good Fight

**Chapter 5:**

**Fighting the Good Fight**

** Inspector Holt of Scotland Yard was a large, portly man, with a walrus mustache and long, flowing brown hair he keep neatly packed under his uniform cap. He was a man who prided himself on being able to assess a situation simply by looking at it, and never shying away from a fight. He had come to the hotel to finish things quickly and neatly; what happened was quite different.**

** The Inspector had led his men into the ballroom where the disturbance was reported, and were promptly blown out of the room by some sort of spectral wind, which was the Inspector could only describe it as. Every time someone tried to go in, a different thing happened to keep them out. Glasses were thrown. Columns of fire appeared shot down from the ceiling. Finally, Holt had remembered what Lord Winston had talked to him about over the telephone. So he sent for the so- called 'Ghost Hunters'.**

** And here they were; four grown men with some type of ridiculous machine tied onto their backs. Straightening his cap, Holt approached them.**

** "My Lord Zeddmore," he said, bowing slightly. "Thank you for coming."**

** Winston waved his hand. "Don't thank us just yet, Thomas. You still haven't told us what's happened here."**

** The Inspector led them to the large doors leading to the ballroom. "A charity gala this evening. Rich philanthropists trying to improve the workhouses. According to what I've gathered, **_**something **_**appeared right in the middle of the room during one of the waltz's. It's been holed up in there ever since."**

** Peter bobbed his head. "Any descriptions of what it looked like?"**

** Holt shook his head. "Most of the witnesses went into shock right after the hauled out of there. Your guess is as good as mine, Mr…?"**

** "Venkman. Also, the short one is Stantz," Egon said. "And I am Father Egon Spengler, of Westminster Abbey."**

** The Inspector snorted. "Well then, **_**padre, **_**you'll need all the holy aid you can get for whatever's in there." He strode over to the doors, and pushed them open with a mighty heave. "Although I don't expected you to get in there."**

** "Really?" Peter smirked. He walked up to the door, and put his hand in the doorway. He withdrew it immediately, and proceeded to take a vial from his pocket.**

** "Oh spirit whom I exert my mastery over," he whispered, "seek the source, and break the bonds so that we may bring justice." And with that he pooped the cork on the vial.**

** A hazy gray mist rose out of the vial, and wisped into the room. It sat as a cloud in the center of the ballroom, and subsequently exploded into a shower of sparks. Peter waited a few seconds, then skipped into the room. "It's all good" he said, doing a small twirl.**

** Egon twitched slightly, and motioned for Ray and Winston to follow him. "Close the door," he instructed Holt, "And don't let anyone in until we come out." The three men walked into the room, and the doors slammed shut behind them.**

** The four men gathered in the center of the room. "So, whot exactly is it that we're looking for?" Ray asked.**

** "The fact that I have the sudden urge to feel in terror suggests something very powerful" said Peter. Egon immediately took out the cross he kept in his coat.**

** Suddenly, FWOOSSH! A great column of fire spat up from the floor, right in the center of where they men were standing. Something flew out of the column, and proceeded to dive-bomb the four Ghost Hunters.**

** "Shoot it!" Egon yelled, and immediately began to wildly blast at the red blur making its way around the room. The three others did the same, taking pot-shots at their spectral foe. One shot from Winston connected, sending the spirit flailing through the air.**

** The ghost stopped spinning, and turned to face the Hunters. It was red in colour, with the body of a muscular man. But beneath its waist was nothing but a tail that looked like it was made of bones. At the end of the tail sat a skull that growled and snapped at the air. Its face was hideous; bloodshot eyes and crooked teeth that jutted from orange, wrinkled gums. Devilish rams horns spiraled down from its forehead.**

** The creature sniffed the air like a dog, and growled at its attackers. Suddenly, its tail whipped around and grew, extending longer and longer as it made its way to where Egon was standing.**

** The tail slammed into Egon, knocking him against the wall. He held onto the skull, hooking his fingers into its eye sockets. The skull itself snapped and growled, trying to get a hold of his flesh. "A little help, if you don't mind!" Egon shouted.**

** Ray ran up to Egon. "What do I do?"**

** "I dropped my cross, but there's another one in my pocket! Grab it!"**

** "…..It's not 'ere!"**

** "It's my coat pocket!"**

"…**.Still not 'ere!"**

** "MY OTHER COAT POCKET!"**

** At last, Ray got a hold of the cross. He raised it high, and brought it down on the tail. The bones cracked and disintegrated, turning into dust. The spirit howled in pain, which gave Winston and Peter a chance to get a good shot. Their beams wrapped around the spirit, putting it in a strangle hold. Egon joined them, while Ray took the opportunity to slide the box into place.**

** "Fire in da hole!" he yelled, and pushed the button. The box opened up, and strange smoky ropes wisped up out of the box and grabbed hold of the spirit, dragging it down, down, down until it was contained in the box. The box's doors slammed shut, and everything went eerily quiet.**

** Peter went and picked up the box. "A good first day, wouldn't you say, chaps?"**

** The other three men just stared at him, then laughed. They made their way to the giant double doors, greeted by joyous policemen and writers from the London Times, eager to get the scoop on these 'Ghost Hunters'.**

** No one ever saw the small, spider like creature detach itself from the wall, and crawl out of the shadows it was hiding in. It watched the four men walk to their automobile, receiving handshakes and slaps on the backs. These four were a threat, it realized, and threats were to be reported. It waited until everyone was gone, and when the hotel was quiet once more, it stretched its bat-like wings and took off into the air, making its way back to its master. The Collective would want to hear about this… **


	8. Ch 7:The Villains Discuss Amongst

**Chapter 7:**

**The Villains Discuss Amongst Themselves**

** The caverns in which the Collective made their home was massive; a rocky, dark, natural cathedral. Stereotypical of devil worshippers, as many of its members pointed out, but it suited the purposes of the organization just fine.**

** The throne room, as it was called, was surpassed in elegance by only the throne room of the Queen's palace. But whereas Buckingham was manmade beauty, the throne room of the Lucifer Collective was natural wonder; its thrones, statues, mosaics, and altar were all hewn from the obsidian rock.**

** The three thrones were currently occupied by Brother Kritch, Sister Fairchild, and in the middle sat the Grand Master, whom his underlings referred to only as Jaines. The three robe cloaked figures sat in silence, waiting for what they knew would be coming.**

** They waited and waited. And then, the creature, the Eye Watcher, who had been dispatched to the hotel with Holt, fluttered down from a hole in the ceiling. Jaines held out his hand, and the Eye Watcher flew down into it. Jaines saw, when it touched his skin, everything that had transpired at the hotel. When the vision was complete, he turned to Sister Fairchild**

** ''Bring Brother Holt here. Now'' he said.**

** Sister Fairchild raised her hand, and chanted the song she needed to complete her task. A circle appeared in the obsidian floor, shining black light. With a flash, the circle roared with power, and Holt was sent shooting up into the air. He crashed down, hard, and moaned, not from pain (which he had plenty of), but from the fear of the men and woman sitting in front of him.**

** ''Grand Master'' he said, his voice wobbling. ''To what do I owe-''**

** ''Shut up, you ignorant worm'' Jaines growled, showing uncharacteristic anger. ''The dead orphan wretch, I can excuse. There are millions of children we can put to work making our weapons. But this… these men. Who are they?"**

**Holt took in a shuddering breath. "Lord Zeddmore. The Negro prince from Africa. He associates with priest from Westminster, who knows of our organization. They seemed to have found a way to capture the spirits we let loose."**

** "You ninny" Kritch said. "We know all that. What we don't know is why you didn't eliminate them on sight."**

** Holt paled. "I…I wasn't aware that I needed to-"**

** "I was hoping it would be obvious" Jaines said. "I explicitly told you that you were responsible for eliminating any threats to our organization. These four men have the orbs in their possession. I need those orbs, and you were the best chance of getting them. As such, your punishment must be equivalent with the consequences of your stupidity."**

** Sister Fairchild smiled, looking like a snake if a snake could grin, and raised her hand again and began to chant another song; The Silent Death march . Holt knew immediately what was going to happen; he had seen it happen enough times to traitors. Before he could scream, however, he was engulfed in smoke. The smoke burned his skin, sneaking down his throat and burning away his vocal cords so he didn't make a sound. He burned and burned, until nothing remained, all the while feeling all the pain.**

** When the smoke had dissipated, Brother Kritch shifted his gaze to Jaines. "I assume this means…?"**

** Jaines chuckled. "Congratulations, **_**Inspector **_**Kritch, on your promotion." Jaines laid back in his throne. Kritch knew what he had to do, and he had never like Holt anyway, the sniveling coward. **

** The Grand Master of the Lucifer Collective was contented, more so than he had ever been before. **_**Everything was falling into place**_**, he thought. He gave a short whistle, and the Eye Watcher dislodged itself from the back of the throne, and flew up through the hole in the ceiling, taking off into the London night sky. **


	9. Ch 9: The Lovely Lady Barrett

**Chapter 8: **

**The Lovely Lady Barrett**

** The four Ghosthunters were having a lively conversation when a new player joined their story.**

"**I'm telling you Egon, if you learned a little bit of magic you'd be far better off."**

** "And I'm telling you, Venkman, that I will not stoop to such a thing!"**

** "Whas' the matter, Father? You a magi-phobe?"**

** "Shut up, Ray!" **

** "Um...excuse me" came a voice from behind them. The four men turned their heads to see a woman standing in the doorway of Winston's sitting room. She was tall, long, and surprisingly pretty, with flowinng red hair that seemed to curl naturally and face that angled like a fox's. She had a newspaper furled up under her arm.**

** "Oh, I'm sorry" she stammered. "Your...assistant told me that I could find you in here."**

** "Indeed you could. And a good thing you did-"**

** "Shut up, Venkman!" Winston hissed. He stood up and gave a slight bow. "My Lady Barrett" he said.**

** "Lord Zeddmore" she returned, giving a slight curtsey. **

** "Tell me, Dana, what brings you to my home?" **

** Lady Barrett took the newspaper out from under her arm, and laid it down on the table in front of here. The title page read "'GHOSTHUNTERS' LAY UNRULY SPIRIT TO REST." **

** "I was reading about your adventure in the Daily Post, and..." She seemed unsure whether or not she should continue. Eventually, "...with the problem I've been having."**

** Egon's ear twitched. "A problem?" **

** Dana nodded. "May I sit down?" **

** Ray got from his seat and pulled up a chair for the aristocrat woman. She thanked him, and sat down.**

** "It began when I came home, about a week ago" she started. "I was in my bedroom, reading, when I got the strangest feeling that I was being stared at."**

** Egon motioned to Ray, who in turn took his notepad out of his pocket and began writing.**

** "Eventually, it unsettled me so much that I thought it best to go into the guest bedroom across the hall. I made for the door, but just as I touched the knob, it locked. I tried the key, but it wouldn't open. Then I..." she stopped. Dana seemed unsure about what happened. It was then Venkman noticed that her eyes were red, with dark circles under the eyelids.**

** "_Crying and sleep deprivation" _he noted in his mind. **

** Dana took in a deep breath. "And then...a...a _voice _came from behind me. It said 'Don't look around'. It said that over and over, getting closer. It called me by my name; I could feel its breath on my neck. It felt as if it had hands around my waist, and...then it said 'They'll be coming for you soon.'"**

** "Did it say anything else?" Egon asked. **

** Dana nodded her head. It seemed like she was going to cry. "No, but... I turned around and...I saw it. A horrible..._face..._it looked like..."**

** "Alright, alright" Winston said. "Calm down. And then?" **

** "The door unlocked. I ran out and got Louis to fetch the carriage. I've been staying at a hotel since then."**

** Venkman sprang up from his chair. "My Lady, we would be delighted to help you" he said before Egon could open his mouth. "Send for your driver."**


End file.
